Dark Guaridian: A New Dawn

by Ammar Habib

  “Who?”

  “I’ll send out a signal to him and he’ll get in touch with you tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ll look into the evidence.”

  William did not pursue his ignored question. “What makes you think that your contact will know anything?”

  “He keeps tabs on these sorts of things.”

  “Okay. And what can we do until your contact gets in touch with me.”

  “We keep fighting. We always keep fighting.”

  “Going out on another patrol?”

  “Yes.”

  “I heard about the bank robbery you foiled. It was all over the five o’clock news just like you said.”

  Ethan did not answer.

  “I noticed you didn’t kill any of the robbers.”

  “They did it out of desperation…and they did not harm anybody.”

  “Well…you did a good job. Not a single hostage even got a bruise. There was an interview with some other people you saved today. A woman you saved from an assault. A man you saved from a mugging. And another lady you saved from an attack.”

  Again, Ethan did not answer.

  “Seems like today has gone almost perfectly for you.”

  Ethan rose to his feet. “And I intend to keep it that way.”

  ***

  It was only two hours before dawn when Ethan finally returned to the penthouse. He stumbled into his bedroom, just about ready to pass out. Only two dim lit lamps provided any light as the curtains blocked out the moon and stars. He let his sports coat drop to the ground. His tie was undone and loosely hung around his neck. His dress shirt was untucked and unbuttoned.

  He collapsed face-first on his bed, not bothering to change his clothes. His eyes shut and sleep overtook him in an instant. A sudden peace came over him and the soreness and pain that gripped him all day miraculously disappeared. The last thing he remembered was hoping that he would see Katrina’s smiling face waiting for him in his dreams…

  Ethan’s eyes suddenly shot open when he heard his phone ring. It could not have been more than a few minutes since he had fallen asleep. As he wiped his tired eyes, he looked at the name on the screen. It was Jonathan. He knew his brother would not call at such an early hour without good reason.

  “Hey, Jonathan.”

  “Ethan! Th—Thank god you picked up.”

  Hearing his brother’s frightened tone caused his heart to fill with a little bit of fear. “Jonathan, what’s wrong?”

  “It…it’s the Westside Home.”

  “The boys’ home? What happened?”

  “Six boys are dead. They…they’ve been killed.”

  Without thinking, Ethan suddenly leapt to his feet. “How?”

  “Th—there was a flash mob right outside the home. When soldiers tried to disperse them, s—someone from the crowd threw a homemade grenade. It—it missed and went into the orphanage. It’s a—a disaster here, Ethan.”

  Ethan rushed onto his feet. “Is the riot over?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are the rest of the boys safe?”

  “I—I think so.”

  “Are you there?”

  “Y—yeah, I am. Why the hell would somebody do this?”

  “I’m on my way!”

  Before Jonathan had a chance to say another word, Ethan hung up the phone. Any weariness was now long gone and replaced with the same thing that drove him to do what he did night after night, day after day. Ethan quickly headed out of the door, not bothering to grab his jacket. His heart was on fire. He was on fire.

  Somebody was going to pay for this. People in Crown City did not just make homemade bombs, especially those good enough to kill six boys. The thought of it sickened him. Someone had to have put an agent in the crowd, bent on throwing that bomb into the orphanage to achieve some sick, demented purpose.

  That someone was going to pay.

  Chapter 10

  Growing Threats

  The first responders were already on the orphanage’s grounds by the time Ethan arrived. Their vehicles’ flashing emergency lights broke the darkness. Some officers were questioning witnesses as to what exactly happened while others stood guard. A crowd of onlookers and reporters were gathered around the orphanage’s grounds as they tried to look in. The police made sure to keep them as far away from the crime scene as possible, but even with all of their efforts and force, they were unable to fully stop the reporters’ cameras from getting the best shot they could of the grizzly scene.

  Ethan stood on the front lawn and watched. Jonathan was a few steps behind him speaking to the detective as he tried to fill Jonathan in on all the facts they had gathered thus far. However, their words were inaudible to Ethan.

  The scorched bodies of the boys had been placed inside body bags, ready to be transported to the medical examiner’s office. Ethan saw them before they were put away. He tried to not imagine the screams each victim endured before succumbing to their injuries.

  Patrick, Vladimir, Aaron, Andre, Chris, Ahmed.

  Six boys suddenly lost their bright futures for no reason other than being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Six boys, who Ethan had gotten to know, played and laughed with countless times, would never be seen or heard from again.

  The rest of the boys that lived at the home were escorted away from the scene. The home’s manager, Bernice, made sure they did not see the corpses of their friends. Yet as the children were quickly led back indoors, they witnessed the black bags being loaded onto the vehicles. They watched as their friends finallyleft the home, but not in a way they had ever imagined.

  Ethan knew that the boys’ souls were at peace now. But right now, that knowledge did not tone down his burning heart. Right now, nothing could put away the fire of his heart, save for one thing: retribution.

  He was certain he knew who the responsible party was. He knew who would be callous enough to throw a bomb into an orphanage. He had forewarned the revolution’s leaders to stay away from any orphanages, homes, and shelters…but they had broken his rule.

  Now, there would be repercussions.

  ***

  The plan was set. A few hours had passed since sunrise. All they had done since touching down in Crown City was work. The team studied film from a hundred cameras, watching for a glimpse of him—a glimpse of their target. They had seen enough. Sergeant Jones stood before them, dressed in his military gear like the rest of the soldiers. They listened intently to their commander, showing no hint of fear as he began to speak of the dangerous mission that stood before them.

  They were ready.

  “We haven’t been able to trace out a pattern in his daily route. He doesn’t seem to have one and tends to disappear quite a bit.” Jones clasped his hands behind his back. “But we do know one thing. At 1900 hours almost every day, he goes through the rooftop of the old Indigo Warehouse a few blocks west of here. It’s in a worn down part of the city and there’s nothing much there. Every day, he goes by there. But when he goes there tonight, he won’t be alone.”

  Jones motioned to the board behind him. There was a hand drawn map of a bird’s eye view of the area around the Indigo Warehouse. A few dots were drawn in.

  “We’ll be using Plan Bravo. Smith and Weston will be set up as snipers on rooftops A and C.” As he sounded off the rooftops, Jones pointed to them on the schematics. “The rest of you will be with me on the ground.”

  The sergeant turned back to his men and smiled.

  “Tonight is a great night, gentlemen. Tonight, The Guardian dies.”

  ***

  Under the cloudy morning sky, William walked down the almost deserted sidewalk with his hands buried deep in the pockets of his brown jacket. The air was brisk. It had been a long night alone at the warehouse. Ethan was nowhere to be seen all night, likely patrolling the streets. He arrived only a little after dawn to change out of his uniform. Now William’s friend had something else worrying him—the killer of those six kids—and William knew without a doubt that Ethan would never rest unti
l he caught the one responsible for it.

  William’s journey home was brought to a sudden halt, and his thoughts scattering away. Across the street, four police vehicles recklessly pulled up to the entrance of an apartment complex. The vehicle out in front knocked over a trash bin as it pulled onto the curb, but the driver did not seem to care right now. Out of the flashing and wailing vehicles, uniformed officers suddenly rushed out and ran into the building. William watched as they nearly broke down the door before charging in.

  Quickly, the ex-soldier ran across the street and dashed up the concrete steps and into the building. Coming into the dingy lobby, he noticed that the front desk receptionist was absent from her desk. No doubt she was where the police were headed.

  William swiftly followed the officers to the staircase. Trailing about ten steps behind them, he went up the flight of steps to the second floor. The hallway was crowded with onlookers as they huddled around the open door of one of the apartments. Loud whispers and gasps came from the onlookers as they stared at the gruesome scene that lay before them. A foul odor consumed the hallway, causing some to gag, but William did his best to ignore it.

  “Out of the way. Move for the police!” the officers rudely barked at the crowd as they entered the corridor. Their loud commands put out the horde’s whispers. Everyone turned to look at the officers as the uniformed men made their way to the open doorway.

  William followed a few paces behind the police and continued towards the scene. As he reached the entrance of the apartment, the door was slammed in his face, cutting him off from any chance to look inside.

  At first there was complete silence, not a sound from any of the officers. But it did not last long.

  “What the h—!”

  “Holy—”

  “Dear God, who could’ve—”

  “Call headquarters now! We need every available detective here now!”

  William’s eyes widened upon hearing the reaction of the police inside. After everything Crown City’s finest had seen over the past years, it took a lot to get them unhinged. Their reaction only got the spectators loudly whispering again.

  Ignoring the stench, William took a small step back and turned to the young lady next to him. He lightly grabbed her shoulder to get her attention. “What happened here?”

  She glanced at his hand and he quickly removed it from her shoulder before she replied, “Eight people were killed.”

  “Eight?”

  She nodded. “Five men and three women. Their bodies were found this morning. They were…completely mutilated. Nobody would have even recognized them if we did not know who lived in there.”

  William paused before asking the next question, fearing that he already knew the answer to it. “How were they mutilated?”

  “Their bodies…they were just…pulled apart.”

  “What do you mean ‘pulled apart’?”

  “Just as it sounds.” Her irritation was clear in her voice now.

  “Was it done with a knife?”

  “How should I know?” The lady turned away from him.

  William reacted with a confused look as the woman undoubtedly seemed to know all other aspects of the crime, but he held himself back from saying anything further to the annoyed-looking woman. He looked back at the closed door for a few long moments, wondering what was happening inside. Wondering just how bad it really was.

  “Hey pal.” A voice came from behind him.

  Turning his head, William looked at the man standing behind him.

  The dark-skinned man’s skinny frame was covered in tattered clothes, and a dirty beard covered his face. “You want to know what happened in there?”

  “Do you know?”

  “I was the first one here.”

  William turned his body to face the man. “What did you see?”

  “It was a damn mess. Blood everywhere: the floor, the carpet, the walls, the ceiling, the fan, everything. How it got there, I don’t know.”

  “And the bodies?”

  “They were ripped apart, but not with a knife.”

  “How do you know?”

  “The way it looked. Didn’t look like anything a knife would do, but then again, I’m no expert.”

  “Then how do you think it happen?”

  “Not sure…their limbs were pulled apart. Like the way a kid pulls off the limbs of an insect.”

  “They were just yanked off? Like somebody just physically yanked off their limbs?”

  “That’s what it looked like.”

  “How sure are you?”

  “Sure enough to tell you. The whole things a shame. I knew these people. Some of the nicest people they were. Always willing to help a fellow like me out.”

  “And the killer? Anybody get a good look at him?”

  “It wasn’t a ‘him’. At least, it was not just a ‘him’.”

  “There was a man and a woman?”

  The man nodded.

  “You saw them?”

  “When I came up here, I saw them walking out of the room. I’ll never forget. A woman with long red hair and a man who was bald.”

  “You’re sure about this?”

  “As sure as I can be.”

  “Can you describe them further?”

  “Both of them were young. The girl looked no older than you and wore a black trench coat. Fair skinned, pretty. There were spots on her coat, looked like blood, but I’m not sure. Don’t know why I didn’t think too much of it.”

  “And the man?”

  “Lean. He was a lean man. Bald head, brown-skinned…and he was covered in tattoos.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “He was shirtless.”

  “In weather like this?”

  “Yeah…his entire body was covered in tattoos; all the way from his waist to his neck and wrists. Seemed like a damn freak with his crazy eyes.”

  “What happened?”

  “I was coming to see the victims when I saw the two. Never seen them around before, but I didn’t think too much of it. But then I saw that the door wasn’t shut…and I saw the scene inside…”

  “And then?”

  “When I looked back, they were both gone.”

  “Are you going to tell any of this to the police?”

  “You really think they’ll believe anything a guy like me says? I doubt that you even believe me.”

  “Trust me. I’ve seen my fair share of crazy. Thanks for your help.” Without waiting for a reply, William walked past the man. He pushed through the crowd as he began to make his way out of the corridor and back to the stairway.

  Most of the spectators stayed, trying to ask one another what could have possibly happened. However, a few of the other onlookers also began to leave, knowing that there was nothing left to see here. But none of them would forget this.

  Especially William.

  Coming to the staircase, William suddenly slammed his fist against the wall and let out a roar. He took several deep breaths as the echo of his cry died down until there was complete silence.

  William knew what he had to do. It was only a matter of time before he spoke to Ethan’s contact. And after the police were finished and the place cleared, he would return to do his own investigation—his own hunt.

  ***

  Marcos’s bodyguard never had a chance.

  As soon as the guard opened the front door, he was knocked out with a swift strike. His unconscious body hit the patio as the attacker turned and looked at the man he was here for. Without hesitation, the intruder then grabbed Marcos and dragged him out of the doorway. Slamming him roughly against the brick wall, a loud thud sounded off as Marcos’s back forcefully hit the thick, rough barrier. He let out a groan as he looked at his assailant.

  Marcos’s horrified eyes looked at the masked face of his once comrade, now captor. Before Marcos could even think about calling for help, The Guardian’s gloved hand was around his throat.

  “You broke my rule!”

  “W—what ar
e you talking about?”

  “There was a flash mob next to the orphanage. Six boys were killed in a bomb.”

  “I didn’t know! I swear!”

  “It’s your responsibility. That part of town is under your supervision.”

  Marcos did not reply. The Guardian’s words caused Marcos to tremble with fear.

  “You’re the leader. This all falls on your head.” The Guardian released his captive as he took a step back. “Find out who it was, Marcos. Find out who was responsible. All the evidence points to you right now and if nothing else comes to light, I’ll punish you for breaking the rule. And you know the penalty for not playing by my rules. You’ve had me as a friend. You don’t want me as your enemy.”

  Chapter 11

  Ambush

  “What do you know about them?” William asked. Holding the phone to his ear, he sat on a park bench. He glanced to his left and right to make sure nobody was eavesdropping as he waited for a response.

  “Only what I hear.”

  “And what do you hear?”

  “Not much. I know the man’s name, or at least what they call him: Danior.”

  “Danior? Kind of an odd name, isn’t it?”

  “Nobody’s going to tell him that. Not after what he and his partner have done.”

  “How many people have they killed?”

  “After these last two…twenty.”

  “How do you know all the murders were their doing?”

  “Because the murder scenes were all the same way. The victims were killed without being touched…blood was everywhere. Nobody knows what they want. Anybody who tried to find out is dead. And that’s exactly why I stopped asking questions.”

  “But these people they just killed. What motivation did they have to target them?”

  “Some people don’t need motivation to do evil.”

  “Any idea when they got here?”

  “I don’t know that. But I do know that their first murder was only a week ago. Since then, they’ve been on a spree. Maybe they’re trying to get your attention. Or maybe it’s your partner they want.”